


Worry Not

by shadowsamurai



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:35:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post All Good Things. Will feels the need to repair some damage before it happens, before he can relax.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worry Not

**Author's Note:**

> Set directly after All Good Things, an episode add-on. Also uses Peter David's gook 'Imzadi' as canon and directly references it, so spoilers for the ep and book.
> 
> After reading All Good Things not long ago, I wanted to do a Picard/Riker friendship piece, and had it half written before taking a break. Now I'm trying to clear up a few odd pieces of fic on my computer, came across this one, and couldn't remember for the life of me where the hell I was going with the story!! Anyway, I've finished it. It either works or it doesn't, but it's done.

Riker was trying to relax. Trying, and failing. He was still trying to get his head around everything that had happened (Q, annihilation, that sort of thing)...trying and failing. It wasn't just that no one but Picard had any recollection of what had happened, it was the personal aspects of the future that burned him. And not because he found it unbelievable; it hurt because he *knew* it could happen. Part of it at least. He hadn't even seen the signs between Deanna and Worf, hadn't noticed how two of his closest friends and colleagues had progressed – or could progress – to something more. What did that say about him? But the moment Picard had told them of the animosity between Riker and Worf, the first officer had been so disgusted with his future self that he made a solemn vow to *never* let things get that far. If being with Worf made Deanna happy, then that was all that mattered; if he and Deanna were meant to be together, he was certain fate would make it so.

No, what had made Riker uncomfortable, what had him so wound up now, what had really burnt like acid in his gut was their future counterparts' treatment of Picard. They had all ignored the future Picard; almost ridiculed him, just because he was ill. Riker found that notion completely inconceivable, yet it had happened, and not just through Q's manipulation; the seeds of such feelings must have already been there. Crusher, LaForge, Data, Worf...they had all, grudgingly in some cases, rallied around Picard and granted him his wish of going off to the Devron system. Yet he, Riker, had ignored his old Captain, ignored everything, just put it down to the ramblings of a crazy old man.

And Picard's revelations of the future – or possible future – led to Riker doing what he had done earlier that night. They had all been surprised when the Captain had joined them for their weekly poker session, but Riker suspected they were also pleased; he certainly knew he was. But beating him just didn't seem right....

*He looked at his cards, knew he had a winning hand, but was unwilling to play it. After what Picard had just told them, it seemed wrong, somehow. “Fold,” Riker said, putting the cards face down on the table.

Everyone looked surprised, but none so much as the Captain. For a long time he was silent, and when he spoke, his tone was light but with an undercurrent of steel. “Number One, are you sure you want to do that?”

“Of course, sir.”

“So if I ask Data to look at your cards, he will find that your hand was indeed lousy, even though you have just seen off Beverly, Geordi and Worf?”

Riker was not the king of poker for nothing, but having seen Picard perform at diplomatic functions, he really wasn't sure he wanted to push him too far. “I don't think that's part of the game, sir.”

“Neither is folding just to let me win, Will,” Picard replied gently. After another beat of silence, when it became clear that Riker was going to stand by his decision, the Captain nodded. “All right. How about we up the stakes?”

The first officer immediately became alert. “I'm listening.”

“Let's play one on one,” Picard said, still smiling as he placed his cards on the table. “Just you and I. And if I win the hand, or the majority out of the next five, I shall be taking your trombone back to my quarters with me...permanently.”

The other senior officers didn't even bother to hide their incredulity, or their amusement. Seeing Jean-Luc Picard take on Will Riker in such a relaxed manner was definitely something they would not forget in a hurry. The first officer in question, however, looked less than amused at the whole incident, although just as incredulous as the rest of his colleagues.

“My trombone, sir?”

Picard nodded. “Either that or you tell me the truth over what just happened now.”

It didn't take long before Riker decided he could lose the trombone. Besides, he didn't actually think the Captain would take it from him...would he? “Alright, sir, the trombone. But if I win...?”

“Name your price.”

Now Riker fought to hide a smirk; he had the perfect counter. “Your flute.”

But Picard didn't even blink. “Done.”

And so it began. The other officers watched in utter fascination as Picard proved more than a match for Riker, winning the first two hands with apparent ease. But it wasn't the winning that the Captain was really focussing on; it was his first officer's expression. When he lost, he hid it well, but there was a trace of chagrin Picard had been hoping to see. He had the strongest impression Riker had folded on purpose, but without embarrassing his first officer completely, there was no way he could be certain, except by doing this. But then Riker pulled out all the stops, and the next three games went by even more quickly, leaving Picard empty handed and apparently flute-less.

“Well done, Number One,” he said with a smile.

Riker allowed himself a grin in return. “My pleasure, sir.”*

The rest of the senior staff joined in the game again after that, enjoying a light banter along with the poker that lasted well into the night. When they finally parted company, there was a strong sense of belonging amongst them; of family as well as friends and comrades. Deanna has kissed Riker's cheek before leaving arm-in-arm with Worf; Data and Geordi had gone off together as usual; and Picard had left with Crusher, neither of them touching but not walking far from the other either. And Riker was left alone to relax...or so he had hoped.

But as the night wore on, he found it completely impossible, and sleep was definitely out of the question. Sighing heavily, he tugged his uniform jacket on and stepped out of his quarters. There was a problem that needed to be sorted, in his mind at least, before he could even think of moving past what had happened.

JLP-WR-JLP-WR-JLP-WR

Picard was not trying to relax; he knew such a feat, even after the enjoyable evening spent with the other officers, would be impossible. So instead he sat, listening to some gentle classical music, reading or just sat thinking. So much had happened, and yet apparently nothing had happened. But what made him glow with pride was the way his colleagues had handled the information when he told them. None of them questioned him or reacted with disbelief; over what Q had done, yes, but not over the information itself. They had accepted it, without question, knowing he was telling the truth. So different to the future he had experienced, so much so that Picard wondered if ever a future could ever occur. Of course, he also knew that anything was possible.

The sound of the chimes to his quarters stirred him from his reverie, and calling for the computer to stop the music programme, he waited a moment before allowing his visitor entry. He knew who it was, of course; he would have been surprised if it had been anyone else.

And when the rangy figure of his first officer stepped over the threshold, Picard allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction in knowing he was right. Beverly would not have called so soon; tomorrow, perhaps, or in a few days time, but not right away. She would naturally want to discuss what he had told them, might even want to ask where their relationship was heading, but she too needed time to get her head around everything. And the rest of the officers had no reason to come to the Captain; friends they may be, even family, but there were some things which were just not discussed. Only Beverly, Deanna, and Riker would come calling on Picard, and as Deanna had been dead in the future he had experienced, that only left one person....

“Number One, is there a problem?” Picard asked, not rising from his seat.

Riker took the whole situation in with one glance. In an instant, he knew Picard knew, and he knew that nothing but straight talking would solve the problem. “Permission to speak freely, sir.”

The Captain smiled. “Will, after everything that has just happened...after everything we have been through over the last seven years, you still feel the need to ask that question?”

Riker stood straight, his hands clasped behind his back. “Yes, sir, I do.”

Picard nodded in approval. “Please, sit down. Would you like a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“I assume you haven't come to collect my flute.”

Riker allowed himself a small, sly grin. “Actually, sir, that had slipped my mind, but now you mention it....”

Picard laughed and shook his head. “There is something on your mind, Will, and while I may not have Counsellor Troi's ability for sensing emotions, I know you are troubled. And I can probably guess as to the reason, but....”

“It's not the same as me talking about it,” Riker finished for him, and then he ran a hand through his hair. “What you told us about the future...I was shocked. Not over my animosity towards Worf; unfortunately, that actually makes sense. Or at least it did do. I could see myself turning into that person if Deanna....” His voice caught in his throat and he paused. He hadn't meant to blurt any of that out, but it was too late to change it. Picard, however, remained motionless, silently listening as a friend or brother would. “But the way I was with you....” He shook his head. “I just can't imagine it, sir. I really can't. How could treat you like that? Someone who I respect so much? Who...has taught me so much.”

Picard waited for a while to see if Riker had anything more to say and when it became clear he had run out of words, the Captain leant forward, balancing his elbows on his knees. “Will, circumstances change us and shape us; you know this as well as I do. Look at what we have been through in the seven years we have been aboard this ship. Look at the situations which have tried to break us, to change us in some way; and some have succeeded.” He paused to suppress memories of the Borg. “None of us know what will happen in the future, or even tomorrow. But the only way you will change into that person I met in the future is if you *let* yourself.” He sighed. “I know what you want, Will; you want me to forgive you for something you haven't even done yet. You want me to forgive you for something which wasn't your fault. Do you remember many years ago when a future version of Data tried to assassinate Counsellor Troi to keep the timeline as it was?”

Riker nodded. “When in fact my future self was doing the right thing by saving her.”

“And do you remember how bitter that future Riker was through the loss of the Counsellor?” Picard asked. The first officer could only nod mutely. “I understand the relationship between yourself and Deanna, Will. I know how difficult it must be for you to see her with someone else, and to have to accept that at the end of the day, she may choose someone else above you to be with. In the back of your mind, whether you realise it or not, you have always thought that, one day, fate would bring you together. You know in your heart that you are soul mates, yet reality is telling you something different.” Picard smiled faintly. “But the future is not written in stone, Will.”

As Riker listened to the Captain talking, he realised that Picard *did* understand, and he caught a rare, clear glimpse into his relationship with Beverly; Picard and the doctor's story was even longer than Riker and Deanna's, though a lot more twisted and complicated, and he realised that there was a lot of regret in Picard's heart, as well as a glimmer of hope for what may be, and those feelings were reflected perfectly in Riker's own heart. In that moment, he felt a stronger affinity with the Captain than he had ever felt before, of friendship and brotherhood, and comradeship.

“By telling us the future, sir, were you trying to ensure that wouldn't happen?” It seemed like an inane question, yet Riker was compelled to ask. But when Picard made no move to reply, the first officer continued. “It was a violation of rules of time.”

“Was it?” Picard asked softly.

“Wasn't it?” Riker countered.

Picard leant back. “The future I experienced could have been a true future, or it could have simply been born from Q's twisted mind. I cannot be certain, and so I feel no guilt for possibly changing the course of time. The future isn't written in stone, Will,” he repeated.

“I would and could never treat you like that, sir,” Riker stated firmly. “And after seeing two versions of the future where I became a bitter old man over the loss of Deanna, I'm determined not to see that happen either. She either chooses me or she doesn't; her happiness is what is important to me.”

“And that, my friend, is the only thing that will get us through this,” Picard said with a faint smile.

Riker nodded. “And if I ever treat you like a feeble, senile old man, you have my permission to shoot me as many times as you like and wherever you like, sir.”

“What about torture, Number One?”

“What kind?”

“Worf singing, perhaps. I could always have Data recite jokes to you non-stop for an indeterminably length of time.” Picard's smile grew, though to Riker, it was tinged with evil.

But his expression never changed. Still straight-faced, he nodded. “Absolutely fine, sir. I would deserve all that and more.” Not wanting to take up any more of the Captain's time, he stood, suddenly feeling tired.

Picard also stood, understanding the wave of relief his first officer was feeling after unburdening his troubles had changed to fatigue. “Worry not about the future, Will. It hasn't happened yet.”

Riker nodded again, but hesitated before leaving. “Sir, I...I've never said thank you for all that you have done for me. Every day you've taught me something, whether it's diplomacy or command, whether it's something big or something small. Every day I've learnt from you, how to act around others, how to take responsibility, and how to become the kind of man I want to be.” He stared out of the view point over Picard's shoulder. “So many people want to know why I didn't accept my own command years ago, why I never beat Kirk's record as the youngest captain in Starfleet. And I wondered myself, until I realised the answer.” He met the Captain's gaze. “My loyalty to you is more important than furthering my career. Being here on the Enterprise is the best place for me.”

“Don't worry, when the time is right, Will, you'll have your own ship. It will be more than well-deserved, and your crew will have the finest captain possible,” Picard replied, putting his hand on Riker's shoulder. It wasn't in his nature to give undue flattery; the compliment was genuine and heartfelt. “And I thank you for your loyalty, and your friendship. Somewhere along the line, we have become more than just a crew; we have become a family.”

The corners of Riker's mouth twitched with humour over a joke only he could hear. “Yes, sir.”

Picard sighed and shook his head. Without even trying, he could probably guess what had run through his first officer's mind and was not surprised in the slightest. “Sleep well, Number One.”

“And you, sir.” Riker walked through the doors, but stopped in the opening. “You can bring the flute with you in the morning, sir. I think the senior staff are all gathering for breakfast.”

Before Picard could reply, his first officer had flashed a cheeky grin and disappeared. The Captain couldn't be angry with him, or even a little irked, not after everything they had been through recently. Instead he smiled and sat back down, resting his head on the back of the couch. Though not long ago he had thought sleep was impossible, the second he closed his eyes he had drifted away, his worries far behind him.

FIN


End file.
